


green, green times

by missi, thegirlthatisclumsy



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M, Multi, bandom plus pot, polybigbang 09, warning for snoop dogg, you should probably get high before you read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-31
Updated: 2009-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missi/pseuds/missi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlthatisclumsy/pseuds/thegirlthatisclumsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes when Dazed and Confused and Empire Records and Wayne's World love each other very, very much and decide to make a baby - Joe Trohman ends up with a not for profit medicinal marijuana dispensary and a gay matchmaking yenta (sort of) in Brendon Urie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	green, green times

**FRIDAY**  
  
Brendon decided, once he woke up to the glorious day that Friday was, that everyone should be in love. This thought was not a new one, but it was a thought that had come into inception (or was it conception, Brendon would have to check with Ryan.) about the time that he and Sven (or was it was Stephen? He'd have to check with Spencer.) had ended it once and for all that previous Thursday night.  
  
The break up had been anti climactic (in every sense of the word - Sven or Stephen had a two minute trigger) as Brendon had calmly accepted that StephenSven had to leave. By leave, StephenSven had to move on to another person. Brendon was fine with it. Really, he was fine with it. He just really wished he'd remembered to get his purple hoodie back from StephenSven's. He was pretty sure that he wasn't going to get it back ever.  
  
But Brendon decided that everyone should be in love. He walked up, whistling something that possibly Spencer had been humming the day before, slid his key into the lock and twisted it with a practiced flick of his wrist. The curtains in the front windows of the head shop next door were still shut. _Ryan and Spencer are probably still having breakfast,_ Brendon thought with a funny little smile. He made himself not sigh and wistfully wish that he had an awesome boyfriend like Spencer was to Ryan or Ryan was to Spencer. He shimmied under the little archway of hung fake rockcandy strands and dipped to duck under the counter divider. He went about his usual morning routine of turning on the computer and register and poking his head into the kitchen to unlatch the door and let Spencer in for the day.  
  
He was on his second cup of coffee by the time the back door screeched open and he heard two familiar low voices. He grinned and hopped off his stool, straightening his apron and tucking two specialty chocolate roses into his front pocket.  
  
"...I'm telling you, subtlety is the key," Ryan said, hanging his coat on one of the hooks near the back door. He slung his battered and many times patched bag along with the coat.   
  
"If we're any more subtle, we might as well be asking to play fucking Tiddlywinks," Spencer muttered and traded his sweatshirt for his cooking jacket, the white pristine now but Brendon knew that it'd be dotted with speckles of sugar or chocolate or both by day's end.  
  
"Guys, I have a plan," Brendon announced, startling Spencer so badly he dropped a hand on Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan's mouth veered off course to land somewhere to the left of Spencer's ear.   
  
"Er, hey Bren, didn't know you were here yet. You're in early," Spencer said, exchanging a look with Ryan. Ryan raised his eyebrows expressively and Brendon kind of hated that they had some secret JustRyanandSpencer mindmeld, but Brendon supposed with that much sex at regular intervals that the mindmeld just happened.  
  
He couldn't be sure on the scientific validity as he'd never had a relationship that had lasted longer than it took for a house fern to die under his care. He told Joe that he had a black thumb in all aspects of houseplant care and relationships. Brendon supposed it balanced out cosmically as he was lucky in other areas. Like candy shoppe minding.  
  
"Yeah. I broke up with Stephen. Er, Sven," Brendon said waving a hand.  
  
"Sean?" Ryan asked.  
  
Brendon snapped his fingers. "Right. So, yeah. We broke up. It was tragic, you know, and I cried big manful tears and watched some Golden Girls."  
  
"Isn't that your usual Thursday night anyway?" Spencer asked.  
  
Brendon rolled his eyes and sighed. "No, well, yes, but that's not the point. We broke up, but I had an epiphany, guys." He hopped on the prep counter and got off only when Spencer snapped a towel at him and headed for the sinks to wash up. "I think everyone should be in love. Like you guys."  
  
Ryan knotted a bandana around his head and snorted. "Honey, do you love me more than you did yesterday?"  
  
  
"Not since you used up all the hot water this morning, fucker," Spencer said, tying his own bandana around his forehead.   
  
"Romance is dead," Ryan drawled and walked through the curtain of beads and made his way into the headshop. Brendon heard the register hum to life and the faint strains of Thin Lizzy come on over the tinny speakers of Ryan's radio.  
  
Spencer leaned over the counter and stage whispered to Brendon. "Cold water killed it along with my wood."  
  
Brendon giggled and Ryan stuck his head back in past the beads. Brendon made himself not laugh when one purple one got caught against Ryan's forehead making him go cross eyed. He was mostly successful. "I heard that, asshole," Ryan said shooting Spencer the bird. "What's your fucking epiphany about? I have to open up before the Cult gets here."  
  
Brendon grinned and tucked one chocolate rose into Spencer's button hole (it was sure to be eaten or melted by the time they even opened) and he danced over to Ryan and held the other between his teeth. "Ay taut tat Joe ud ee in uf."  
  
"What now?" Ryan asked, letting Brendon tuck the plastic wire stem behind his ear, secured into the bandanna.  
  
"I thought that Joe should be in love."  
  
"Huh," Spencer said, firing up the ovens.  
  
"Well?" Brendon asked, turning to Ryan. He was pretty hopeful, what with Ryan's writerly soul and all, that Ryan would understand his... quest.  
  
"So, you're going to set Joe up?" Ryan smirked.  
  
Brendon nodded, and then he frowned as Ryan just shook his head and snorted. "What? I can do it!" He slanted a look at Spencer whose mouth twitched suspiciously. "I can, Spencer Smith. I can play fucking matchmaker and make Joe happier than any guy South of Market."  
  
"Uh huh. Hey, thanks for the rose," Spencer said, ushering Brendon out of his kitchen. "Good luck with that."  
  
Brendon narrowed his eyes at the swinging door and Spencer's disappearing ass. "Jaded ass cynics the both of you."  
  
He supposed it was fitting that he could hear Ryan singing next door tonelessly along to the radio.   
  
_Call on me baby. If there's anything I can do for you._  
  
Brendon fumed and stacked his hands on top of the counter and stacked his chin on top of that. "Stupid jerks. Joe is awesome and deserves awesomeness."  
  
"I can agree with that."  
  
Brendon jerked his head to find Joe coming through the bead curtain, coffee cup stretched out in front of him and blue hood pulled up over his newly shorn curls, Brendon was _still_ mad Joe didn't let him cut the fro when he decided to donate his hair to a little girl who'd lost hers to chemo, he had two whole semesters of beauty school before he dropped out and hitched a ride to San Francisco, and Brendon was whistling "Beauty School Dropout" to himself before he even realized it while Joe rooted around at the coffee maker, moaning a quiet mournful sound when he realized it was empty.  
  
"Awesomeness includes coffee, Brendon, and I deserve it. Why isn't there any ready?" Joe rubbed at his eyes with the hand not currently occupied with a coffee mug and stared at the carafe as if it would suddenly fill with brown liquid Nirvana. He knew why there wasn't any coffee. Brendon liked the girls at the coffee shop down the street, purposely refused to leave coffee to accompany the treats Spencer concocted, both Special and regular so that customers would take their cookies and brownies alike to the café and fetch caffeine from Cassadee or Charlotte. Sometimes, though, sometimes Joe just didn't feel like making the trek.  
  
"Joe, I was running a little late this morning, I'm sorry, Sv - Ste- Sean and I broke up and I didn't sleep at all, and I came up with this beautiful plan on my way in...I was distracted telling Ryan about it, you know, Ryan's good at plans, Joe, and I just didn't get myself to the coffee pot yet, Joe, sir." Brendon lied a little. He'd already finished off what he'd made earlier, but it wasn't really a lie because he hadn't gone back to the coffee pot to make another one. Brendon bent over a plate of wrapped cookies, wax paper hat cocked to one side and ass perked up as if demanding Joe's attention, and Joe could only sigh. Brendon's ass was a perk, but then Joe had to remember that the ass came with Brendon attached. But he loved the kid, Joe did, and he certainly made things interesting around the dispensary.  
  
"I'm down to the café, then. You want anything, B?"  
  
Joe checked his pockets to be sure he actually did grab his wallet off the desk, looked at his feet to be sure he actually did slip on a pair of Birks, and cocked his head at Brendon while Brendon cocked his own and considered his options.  
  
"Irish cream mocha, I think, Joe, I think that would be super."  
  
"I'll walk down with you, Joe, I've got to head to the patisserie anyway." Brendon jumped a little as Spencer came out from the kitchen, out of the chefs whites (so _soon_ , Brendon mourned, he didn't even get to _appreciate_ them today) and back into his sweatshirt, knives slung over his shoulder and a fine dusting of powdered sugar like freckles over his cheeks. It was adorable, and Brendon appreciated it for a moment while somehow registering that Spencer was nixing his request for espresso while walking Joe out the front door of the sweet shoppe.  
  
"Joe, don't let Spencer tell you about my caffeine tolerance, you know me--" Brendon called, "-also, don't make plans for next Friday, I'm totally setting you up!"  
  
The glass door swung shut behind them just as Spencer turned to Joe and said, "I have this cousin--  
  
***  
  
The little coffee shop two doors down from the sweet shoppe was empty except for the weekday barista Charlotte and a familiar set of shoulders hunched concentrating over circular knitting needles, long brown fingers wrapped around size 1s and dirty mouth swearing alternately about sock yarn and something Joe thought was called magic lasso, those shoulders jumped a slight bit when Joe cleared his throat.  
  
"Weren't you supposed to be in dispatch fifteen minutes ago?"  
  
Travis unfolded himself from the tiny cafe table, stowed what appeared to be a box of knitting notions into his messenger bag and smiled broadly at Joe, hand already reaching to clasp his shoulder. "'m not that late, Joseph. Charlotte's teaching me to knit, and I'm trying to make this lacy thing for Greta, and I'll...just be on my way now. See you back in the office, boss." He tipped his hat to Charlotte, who'd already risen from the table and planted herself behind the bar, reaching for Joe's mug. Travis blew through the door before Joe could even register the cafe door swinging shut.  
  
"You know, Charlotte, I don't think any of my staff take their jobs seriously." Joe smiled at her and handed over his cup. "Just black, please."  
  
"Nothing fancy, I know." Charlotte dug behind the counter before handing his mug back. "Here, I made this for you."  
  
It was a yarmulke, though God knew Joe hadn't set foot in a schul in longer than he could remember, the batleaf logo of his dispensary knitted in the center, and Charlotte smiled widely at him. "I know it's a bit ridiculous, but I figured if you were missing your hair..."  
  
Joe wasn't particularly missing his hair, but it was a nice gesture, and he put a brownie in her tip jar along with his dollar and change. "We've got your favorite back in, I've already got some set aside for you." Charlotte's grin grew, and she dipped her head to hide it a bit behind her hair. She'd had a crush on Joe as long as she'd worked at the coffee shop, and he treated her a bit gently for it. Hey, Joe was totally in touch with his feminine side. His last girlfriend, Marie, she'd helped him with that, and it had worked wonders for him in general since. Granted, it had been...years. Many years now, ha. He winked at Charlotte as she wiped at the counter and headed back down the street.  
  
He could see the Cobra's van parked outside. Right on schedule (nine days after their penciled expected date in the calendar). Joe figured if he hurried he might be able to spare Ross from Gabe's reaching hands, but there was no guarantee. He wasn't entirely sure just how long that van had been there. Surely he hadn't been in the café more than a few minutes.  
  
***  
  
Joe sighed the sigh of the heavily burdened. Ryan was holding up the wooden totem pole carving that Joe was sure that he'd picked up just outside of Mesa on a trip to the desert. "Manager or not, keep your hands to yourself, Saporta," Ryan said. "I do not need to know or feel the power of the Cobra. Especially not against my ass."  
  
Gabe held up his hands and shook his head. "You know not what you miss, Young Ross."  
  
Ryan eyed Gabe. "If I did, I am sure I could ask Travie for details."  
  
Gabe's face went wistful for a moment then he knuckled Ryan against the top of the head, a gesture that Joe knew that Ryan hated. He knew that Ryan hated it when anyone messed with his hair. "Yeah. Those were some golden days."  
  
"It was two months ago, Gabe," Joe said rolling his eyes and sipping his coffee. "The 3rd Annual Festival of the Celestial Light or something. Vicky was wearing the bikini with the purple spangles."  
  
Gabe's face went even more wistful. "Right. Right. She did the celebratory dance to the Great Snaked One and we gave blessings to our benefactor."  
  
"THC?" Ryan muttered and shelved the newest selection of glassware pipes into the display case in front of him.  
  
Joe laughed and hid it behind his cup of coffee. "Are you guys getting set up back there?"  
  
Gabe walked out from behind the counter and nodded. "Yes, the disciples are getting set up. I left a few in the basement."  
  
"Gabe, we don't have a basement," Joe said slowly. "We have a crawl space."  
  
Ryan just shook his head and stuck his head between the two sarongs that hung in the archway that separated the candy shoppe from the head shop. "Brendon, Gabe's here. He wants to talk to you about. Er, your mission."  
  
"He has a mission?" Gabe asked warily. "Is it from the Cobra?"  
  
"Or something." Ryan smirked when Brendon bounded in from the other side of the building.   
  
"I'll be in my office," Joe said and edged his way out of what he was sure was going to be a disaster of a conversation. He'd let Ryan take care of it. He hadn't had enough caffeine or smoke to deal with this shit this early.  
  
"Hey! Joe! Where's my mocha?" Brendon called out after him.  
  
Joe shut the door to his office and stood there in blessed silence.  
  
***  
  
Brendon stood there looking up at Gabe. "So, I've got a mission."  
  
Gabe slung an arm around Brendon and leered at him with a big wide slightly creepy smile. "Oh? Do tell."  
  
It wasn't as if Brendon had to stop and consider the Cobra as on option for Joe -- he wouldn't let Joe move to the desert, and they'd already had something going on with Travie and Greta from dispatch, he knew. And, yes, he knew, he didn't _think_. A tub of laced chocolate whipped cream'd gone missing, and he'd found its remnants all around Spencer's kitchen, and then he'd turned a corner-- Brendon shuddered a bit. The Cobra just wasn't right for Joe. But maybe Gabe had a good idea of who was...he'd known everyone in their particular corner of San Francisco before defecting in a 1978 Airstream bus, having seen the Cobra while tripping out with the tall guy and one of the Alexes and the drummer from the basement and the hot girl. (He learned their names on their way out of town.)  
  
"Joe deserves love, Gabriel, and I am going to make sure he finds it." Brendon considered stamping a foot but weighed against it. Gabe raised an eyebrow and leered down at Brendon a bit, and Brendon recoiled slowly as Gabe's face drew closer.  
  
"You've realized the Cobra knows all about love, right, Brendon? That's why you've come to me? Yes, little boy, tell me about it."  
  
Brendon was actually sort of terrified now, but he was relieved by twin snickering sighs from somewhere behind him. He couldn't see them, Vicky and Ryan, but he knew those breaths anywhere...and okay, that was kind of creepy, but all he could see was Gabe, and he shrieked a little bit as Gabe reached in for him, screwed his eyes shut and shrieked like a little girl.  
  
"Unhand him, Saporta." Ryan sounded a half degree less disaffected and disinterested than usual, and Brendon's ears perked up. Ryan Ross! He was chivalrous among other things! A good lover, according to Spencer, and a good storyteller, and Spencer actually kind of spent a lot of time chatting up his boyfriend to Brendon, he was realizing, but perhaps he was setting up an opportunity for Brendon to slot Joe in now! While he was a bit blacked out from his deadly encounter with Gabriel, Brendon considered Ryan and Spencer for Joe. They seemed the type to maybe be open to a threesome! He just...sort of couldn't see Joe fitting in with them, though, so Brendon discontinued that train of thought then and there.   
  
"Yes, unhand me, Saporta, I've just smelled Mrs. Linton coming in, I'd recognize that Joy by Jean Patou anywhere. We have a peanut debate to settle."  
  
They three turned to watch Brendon's ass walk away.  
  
"Damn, I hate to see him go, but I love to watch him walk away."  
  
Vicky purred a little bit at Gabe's words and Ryan mused, "There's no settling that debate. It's been going on since Joe brought Brendon in, and Mrs. Linton was talking to Tom behind the counter about peanut brittle." His eyes were still glued to the ass, though, it just...  
  
"Wake up!" Joe reappeared (like a cat, so quiet) snapped a hand in front of their faces and fixed glazed eyes on them all. "If Jon could just find a way to crossbreed Brendon's ass with a nice candy Sativa, I would be so, so rich." He looked over to the swishing fabric. "Peanut battle, huh?"  
  
Ryan nodded and then turned on his heel. "Not-for-profit, Joseph. And he's right about the brittle," and then he was through the bead curtain, calling to Mr. Parley about a new Indica strain that he thought might be better for the man's lower back pain.  
  
Joe turned to Gabe and Vicky. "Shouldn't you be upstairs molesting my dispatch team?" Gabe was clearly about to answer when Mrs. Linton raised her tiny little voice to call Brendon a name unbecoming and stomped out, leaving the kid's mouth agape and shoulders up.  
  
"Joe, I don't know what happened, we were just discussing the truffles and the way Spencer makes the laced ganache, and I just don't know what happened." Joe couldn't even open his mouth to answer before his phone was ringing out "25 or 6 to 4", his ring for Jon, and the delivery fleet was banging their way through the back door, green cabs lined up along the alley. A chorus of "Joe!"s went up, and he called a short "Cab" in return, nodding as he thumbed open the call from Jon.  
  
"Walker."  
  
"So, Trohman, I hear you're in the market for a date. I couldn't really take Brendon's call, what with Pete attempting to wield a shiny new trowel in Mixon's direction, but from what I gathered, he considers me a serious candidate for his Joe Deserves Awesomeness Which Includes Happily Ever After plan, which he has an acronym for, but I can't pronounce it, and also, like I said, I didn't get to hear more than a few seconds of his call, so y'know, it's a little surprising I don't have more info than that, but that's all I got from the kid. You free tonight, hot stuff?"  
  
Jon grinned at Joe's squawk, turned back to take in the scene before him. Pete was standing in the middle of their outdoor organic strains, waving his squeaky clean trowel in Mixon and Patrick's directions alternately. Patrick mostly looked as though he wasn't quite sure why he'd been roused from his studio. He had a musician coming in to cut track this weekend, he was busy, _why_ had Pete dragged him out here.  
  
Turned out, Pete'd dragged Patrick out to overhear his argument for a moat, and Andy and Mixon were playing commentator from their side of the fence. Jon mostly just wanted to get Pete away from the newer, more fragile sprouts. He thought Patrick was yelling back to play the game, wear Pete out, express his grumpiness at being roused, all of the above, but not because Patrick found Pete to be wrong or ridiculous, those fights were different, and Jon mostly thought they just needed to smoke one anyway. He really just didn't understand how they could _grow_ and not _use_.  
  
It was a travesty of major proportions.   
  
"So, what's the call? You going to let me romance you, Trohman?" Jon purred and he neatly bobbed and weaved under Pete's arm. The new plants were safe for the time being as Pete was pouting at Patrick's face. "Gotta go. Pete's either going to cry into my new strain or he's going to climb on my equipment."  
  
"Well, if he's climbing on your equipment, maybe I don't want sloppy seconds," Joe drawled and looked into the bottom of his coffee cup. It was bone dry and he sighed. It really wasn't his day.  
  
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. Go manage something," Jon said and Joe heard the groan as something crashed in the background.   
  
Joe winced for Jon. "I hope that wasn't the new strain you were working on that you were trying to blend with the coffee flavors."  
  
Jon growled and Joe thought it was a good time to hang up and check up on how the Cobras were setting up in the parking lot.   
  
***  
  
Brendon stuck his head back through the curtain and fluttered his lashes at Ryan. "Ryan Ross."  
  
Ryan looked at Brendon from the top of his magazine and raised an eyebrow. "Brendon Urie?"  
  
"Ryan Ross," Brendon said ducking under the drop down counter partition and then hopped on top of it to grin at Ryan. He had a plan and he had plans that included wanting Ryan Ross to helping him. He actually required Ryan Ross help him. Ryan Ross had displayed his virtue and honor by protecting him from that Gabriel "Touch My Snake" Saporta.  
  
"If this is some fucked up game of the Song That Doesn't End, I'm going to end _you_ ," Ryan said nudging at Brendon with his foot. "Get off the counter."  
  
Brendon sighed and slumped up against Ryan, backing him into the corner next to the L that the register and the display case made. "I think you mean the Echo game. And no. You, sir, are a virtuous man."  
  
Ryan snorted at that and folded his magazine closed. "What do you want?"  
  
"What does everyone want, Ryan? Love? Chocolate? Freeeeeedom," Brendon tucked his head in against Ryan's shoulder and sighed. "I need your help. I had decided that maybe you and Spencer might not be opposed to a threesome. You're not, right?"  
  
Ryan stared at Brendon with his mouth open a little then he started to smile. "Hell, no. I'm glad you finally got that Spencer and I--."  
  
"Are cool and awesome enough dudes for Joe," Brendon finished and beamed up at him.  
  
"What? Oh fuck no!" Ryan said, eyes wide.   
  
Brendon's face fell. "You don't want to have hot sweaty awesome sex with Joe? Why not? You're not so superficial to care about hair and that his isn't as glorious as it once was, are you?"  
  
"Yes, er. No," Ryan shook his head. "Joe's not our type. My type or Spencer's. He's uh."  
  
Brendon sighed and pouted. "Fine."  
  
Ryan patted Brendon's back. "Good."  
  
They were silent for a minute.  
  
"Ryan, can I ask you a question? And don't say that was already a question. That's just a dick thing to say to someone."  
  
"Sure, what?" Ryan asked finding himself rubbing in ever increasingly larger circles on Brendon's back.   
  
Brendon tucked himself even more into the slightly pokey bits of Ryan's side. "How come I can't ever find a decent guy? I mean, I'm a good guy, right? I'm not hideous or anything, right? You'd tell me." He nodded more to himself than Ryan. "Why doesn't anyone want me?" He sighed and looked up at Ryan with a funny little smile. "Sorry. I know. Shut up, Brendon. You're a great guy. Someone will come along and sweep you off your feet." He brightened a little. "Hey, maybe you and Spence could set me up with someone you guys thought were cool." He patted Ryan's cheek then paused. "Ryan, why is your hand on my ass?"  
  
Ryan coughed. "Er, sorry. Lint."  
  
"Oh, right. Corduroy pants. I should know better," Brendon shrugged. "Back to the sugar coal mines. Thanks for the rap session." He kissed Ryan's cheek then disappeared through the curtains.  
  
Ryan groaned and reached for his phone, thunking his head against the counter. He wasn't sure if he was glad for the added padding of the magazine or not.  
  
***  
  
When the Cab looked up to watch Brendon as he entered from the head shoppe, they were stuffing their faces with Spencer's grandmother's peanut butter fudge, but they didn't use on the job, so Brendon knew it was just the regular stuff...though, that did remind him, he probably shouldn't leave the shop unattended for so long. Even if Joe did have Jon put the bell in last month when he was bringing the most recent harvest from Clandestine Farms, that Jon was a handy guy, Brendon was glad he'd considered him in the running for worthy of Joe.  
  
"Go on over to Ryan's, I saw your bags on the counter, and get your hands out of my fudge!" Brendon planted his hands on his hips and gestured towards the curtain with his head.  
  
The one with the shortest hair, one of the ones not named Alex, snickered out a "that's what he said" as he ducked through the beads, calling out to Ryan to please, please tell him that Julie from the Mission had put her order in for that weekend, Julie's legs went all the way up to her-- Brendon plugged his fingers in his ears, no one really ever, ever wanted to know anything about any of the Cab's sex lives. Not ever.  
  
(The Cab was Joe's nickname for the dispensary's delivery force, so named after the fleet of cabs bought cheap at an auction and painted green by Travis early in the business' career, each one splashed with the batleaf now associated with the dispensary across the hood, borrowed from Clandestine Farms, their supplier. The reason for the nickname was obvious, they're mostly all named Alex, and it was quite a pain really to remember which weren't, so. The Cab it was.)  
  
The bell rang, not that Brendon could hear it with his fingers in his ears, but he saw it jingle above the door and looked below to find Mikey, the hole puncher from the parlor down the street walking in, head bobbing absently along to whatever was playing through the buds ever planted in his ears. Brendon didn't _think_ Mikey was Joe's type, but really, he didn't know any of the guys from the parlor or the comic book shop above it very well. It could have very well been that one of them was Joe's long lost soulmate! This could have borne out investigating.  
  
Brendon was a bit distracted considering a way to get to know the guys down the block without actually getting another tattoo (history'd shown those decisions hadn't always played out well for him) or comic book (it was just not really his...thing?), so it took a moment for him to realize that Mikey was actually speaking to him. He tuned in just in time for "--vegan sugary tart things, all fruity and shit, I don't know _why_ he didn't just come get them himself."  
  
It was a good thing that Brendon was reasonably good at context clues and deduction, Mikey was here for Frank's vegan sugary tart things, which was also exactly what Brendon called them. They were wildly popular, but since they'd been Frank's idea, Brendon just associated them with Frank. Of all the guys down the block, he knew Frank best, just because he was in twice a week for the tart things, but he never said a whole lot more than "blueberry" and "I think you dropped one. No, behind you." Brendon wondered if Mikey was picking them up for Frank. "Are you picking these up for Frank?"  
  
"Yeah. Little fucker can't take a two second break from a back piece to come get his own damn pastries."  
  
Brendon nodded sympathetically. As he packed the tarts into a paper box, he grinned at Mikey and asked, "So, are you free next Friday?"  
  
To say Mikey looked a bit taken back would have been saying the least possible. Brendon was a little defensive but remembered that this mission was selfless and for Joe. "It's not for me. It's my boss. He's kind of awesome."  
  
***  
  
"...And then he asked me out. For his boss," Mikey said, shoving the box into the fridge. "What about me says that I'm into guys?"  
  
The parlor was eerily silent. Well, as silent as a tattoo parlor with all the stations filled could be. Bob was handing an aftercare packet to his last customer and escorted her out around Mikey.   
  
Frank raised an eyebrow. "You did get me blueberry, right?"  
  
Mikey flipped Frank off and sat by Bob at the counter. "You hate him as much as I do, right?"  
  
Frank blew Bob a kiss from over the bench. He was taping cellophane down over the backpiece he'd been working on for a few hours already. "Bob loves me more than you do, Mikey."  
  
"He just loves you because you indulge in deviant behavior with him," Mikey said and neatly avoided the swat from Bob's hand that he knew was coming. Unfortunately that put him right in the line of fire for Frank's rubber band.   
  
Bob closed the register and gave Mikey a hard look. "Your pants and the fact that you and that weird snake guy hooked up says you're into guys. And I'd probably love Frank more if he stopped bogarting all the fucking wrap."  
  
Frank shrugged innocently. "It's mostly the pants, Mikey. And I bought you another fucking roll, Bryar."  
  
"Well, then I guess I do love you," Bob said, cuffing Mikey against the back of the head.  
  
"Ugh. I fucking hate you guys. I'm going to call my girlfriend," Mikey said.  
  
***  
  
"How do you know he's into guys? He could be into girls," Greta asked, or tried to ask with a straight face.  
  
Brendon set down the two blocks of rice krispy treats and sighed. "He had like one girlfriend two lifetimes ago. He's firmly in the Yay Dick category." He waved a hand. "I mean, it's a pretty compelling argument, the wanting dick thing."  
  
Greta broke the seal on the plastic wrap and nodded. "I can't say that I've found any fault in it with my experience." She hooked the headset around her neck and bit into the first treat. "God, how does he make them this good?"  
  
Brendon shook his head. "No clue. I think Spencer is magic or something. He just is in there with his hands and you turn around or something and when you get back he's got like all this stuff made. He's got like magic hands or something."  
  
Travis kicked his feet up on the desk and smirked. "I heard it was magic fingers according to Ross."  
  
Brendon pointed a finger at Travis. "Don't sully their love, McCoy. Just because you're indulging in wildly lascivious acts with not one but two other people, don't paint Ryan and Spencer with the same kinky brush."  
  
"Hmm, body paint. Not a bad thought. Babe, you want to write that one on the white board? Gabe and Vicky are supposed to be by later as soon as they set up the stalls for the market tomorrow," Travis said waving a pen at Greta.  
  
Brendon shook his head. "I can't believe that Travis has dragged you down with him, Greta. What happened to my sweet girl from the Midwest?"  
  
Greta ruffled Brendon's hair on her way to the whiteboard. "You're cute when you're clueless."  
  
"And it's three other people," Travis corrected. "Me, Greta, Gabe, and Vic."  
  
"It's like swinging. Just insularly. Committed and all that shit," Greta explained.  
  
"Stop breaking Brendon's brain!" Ryan yelled up from the bottom of the stairs. "Brendon, you have customers!"  
  
Travis smirked at Brendon and waved Brendon back at the stairwell. "It was good to see you, Bren."  
  
Ryan was waiting for Brendon at the bottom of the stairs. "What?"  
  
"Travis keeps telling me to sing Single Ladies to you," Brendon frowned. "Weird guy." He wandered past Ryan back to the candy shoppe. He could swear that he heard Ryan yell at Travis about death and dismemberment and big mouths. "I work with total weirdos."  
  
***  
  
So Snoop Dogg knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who knew that Patrick was a music producer who owned and operated a medicinal marijuana farm with his studio on property. Snoop mostly just wanted to know how no one told him before. The car dropped him at the front door and he just stood on the porch, closed his eyes and sniffed. He heard the door open in front of him but kept his eyes closed and held a hand in front of him.  
  
"Shhhh. Got to enjoy this thing."  
  
He opened his eyes to find a very, very short white dude with a hat nearly pulled down over his eyes standing in front of him. "Stump?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm Patrick, Sn - Mr D - sir." Patrick laughed to himself. "Dee oh double jizzle? Calvin?" He was certain he could hide in the hall closet should Snoop not enjoy the joke. Hey, Patrick could be a little afraid! Murder was the case that they gave him, okay. "This is Clandestine Farms. I see you haven't brought an entourage. Well, don't worry, you won't be alone. My partner's black. Well, sort of. A person of color, sir."  
  
Just then, Pete walked by wearing a towel and carrying the trowel, and Snoop had to say, he wasn't sure what he'd gotten himself into. He was sure, however, that he could see the greenhouse and patches and an open door to a top dollar studio. He was totally gay friendly, Snoop was, and he didn't have to fuck nobody to record a hit single and stay high doing it, so he took his shoes off inside the door and followed Patrick into the studio.  
  
He looked down. That sure as fuck was hemp carpet.  
  
***  
  
Jon walked into the head shoppe bearing that weekend's harvest from Clan Farms, and Ryan's face was so totally serious as he accepted the delivery, made sure Jon had included strain information so he could make recommendations. Ryan was pretty serious about his job, actually, especially considering it was his second, the first being that of an English PhD with creative dissertation. His hours at Joe's varied depending on his semester's scheduling, and it was certainly never hard to get part time help at a dispensary to make up for it, but Ryan was stubborn about *sniff* children handling his goods.  
  
"Ryan, you realize you're not actually a pharmacist, right? It's really up to Mr. Daniel whether he wants the GDP or the Super Jack for his back pain." Joe's voice was gentle as he walked into the shoppe, head bent over the mail.  
  
"Hey, baby," Jon called. Joe stopped and rolled his eyes, reached out his hands for the goods Ryan hadn't taken in his first handful.  
  
"You're late."  
  
"I thought I could drop this off and take you to dinner, per Brendon's plan?" Jon teased, and Ryan nearly toppled over the case with the hand blown glassware in his haste to appear as if he wasn't paying attention. Maybe Brendon was onto something after all. If only he would be on _him_ and _Spencer_.  
  
"I think Brendon's plan is for you to take me to dinner next Friday, so you'll just have to wait 'til then. Maybe I'll have another suitor tonight."  
  
Ryan was amazed Joe was sober enough to use the word suitor correctly for half a second, but remembered his boss wasn't quite the scatterbrained marijuana melon he may have appeared to be most of the time. Joe was a sharp guy, and a good boss, and a dude who believed in the cause. He spied Brendon about a half a second from falling through the beads in his most obvious eavesdropping attempt yet and gave the high sign. He half adored and half ... well, no, just totally adored the way Brendon gave a little jump and knocked into the beads anyway.  
  
"I can see you," Joe said, flicked the curtain closed. Jon just laughed into Joe's shoulder and hugged him in a brief and totally manful way. Ryan was not going to read into it. He really wasn't.  
  
"I am gathering data, Joe!" Brendon said from behind the curtains.  
  
"I don't need a yenta, Bren," Joe thwapped Jon on the shoulder as Jon tried to lean on him. When the thwapping didn't work, he rolled up his copy of High Times and smacked him on the nose.  
  
"Apparently Joe likes hitting his prospects," Ryan yelled.   
  
"Kinky!" Brendon said and then there was a clatter from the other side of the room. "Uh, Joe. You didn't hear that."  
  
Joe sighed and nudged Jon out of the way. "I didn't hear you and Ryan adding Spank and Tickle to my lists of likes and wants?"  
  
"No, you didn't hear me drop a tray of cookies on the coffee machine. And uh. Well, breaking it," Brendon said. "You totally did not hear that."  
  
Joe rubbed his forehead. "I'm going to my office."  
  
Jon winked at Ryan and rolled his hand into a loose fist and made a jerking gesture. "Fuck you, Jon," Joe yelled from down the hall. "Not 'til next Friday at least, my love," Jon gave Ryan a smart little knuckle on the head and ducked out of the way of Ryan's too slow attempt at a hit. Jon blew Ryan a kiss as he walked out the front door. "Catch you guys on the way back. Going to check on the guys setting up."  
  
Ryan just shook his head.   
  
"Ryaaaaaaan," Brendon poked his head into the room. "I'll let you have the broken cookies if you help me clean up the broken glass."  
  
"I'd rather eat the broken glass, Bren."  
  
"You don't mean that!" Brendon winked and ducked back into the candy shoppe.  
  
Ryan sighed and got up. He really didn't.  
  
***  
Brendon held out white paper bags as if passing out lunches as the delivery boys filed by, telling them each to have an awesome weekend and calling out, "Don't forget, the harvest tasting is Sunday at Clan!" as they went through the beads to pick up their last runs of the afternoon. He hummed a little freestyle mashup of "Closing Time" and "It's the End of the World as We Know It" as he flipped the lock on the front door and reached behind himself to pull the ties on his apron. He heard Ryan turning up his stereo, which meant he'd locked up next door as well.  
  
The display cases were stocked for the weekend, and Brendon picked the best looking brownies from the last batch to take upstairs to the lounge, packed them into a basket and pushed into the head shoppe. Ryan knelt behind one of the glass cases, taking end of week inventory and nodding to himself. "So," Brendon started brightly, "how did Gabe and Vicky do today? Sell out?"  
  
Ryan snorted dryly and said, "Sell out? I don't think they managed to get _set up_." He shrugged as he pulled himself upright, shook out his limbs and gestured up the stairwell. "Shall we?"  
  
Brendon led the way up the stairs, turned around after a moment when he didn't hear Ryan's footsteps immediately behind his. He caught Ryan pulling a grin off his face and starting up the steps. "C'mon, Ross, they'll be starting without us."  
  
They entered the lounge to find Travis and Greta in a not-yet compromising position and a blunt burning in an ashtray, and Brendon hid his eyes in Ryan's shoulder, as he did every Friday afternoon. Joe ambled out of his office and cleared his throat, pulled a chair up to the coffee table and gestured for Brendon and Ryan to share his oversized armchair. Brendon shrugged while Ryan slid his eyes over to meet Joe's with thanks and suspicion. Travis choked a bit when Brendon sat down and gestured at his lap with an eyebrow cocked in Ryan's direction.  
  
Ryan wondered if maybe he'd entered an alternate parallel in which Brendon was intuitive about things like matchmaking and now he and Spencer, right up until he settled gingerly into the chair and Brendon blew a raspberry against his cheek. Okay, maybe not.  
  
Joe loaded a bong out of his private stock and passed it to Greta. "Ladies first."  
  
Brendon rested his chin against Ryan's shoulder and hummed again while he waited for his turn.  
  
***  
  
Brendon needed, really needed Spencer and Ryan on board with this. He figured them inviting him to dinner was a pretty good place for them to strategize. He waved off Ryan's offer of a ride. He'd just take the bus to their place. He would have walked but he always got whistled at, and most of the time getting whistled at was okay, he figured it was not the night to be distracted. He had planning to do. He hopped off the bus and waved to the driver and he's sure that the driver didn't mean to almost shut the door on his hand. He shrugged and ran up the steps and knocked smartly on their door. He waved at Spencer as he lifted the PACE rainbow flag to see who it was that'd come calling. Brendon beamed and held up a basket of goodies.  
  
Spencer opened the door and Brendon bit back the wistful little sigh. Spencer was in an unbuttoned plaid shirt and really tight jeans. Ryan was a really lucky guy. Brendon held up the basket and grinned. "I brought planning provisions for our strategy meeting!"   
  
"Bren, I made most of those things today. Joe knows you're taking off with half his stock right?" Spencer asked as he took the basket and held the door open for Brendon. Brendon waved at Ryan who was laid out half on and half off the couch. "So, why didn't you ride with Ryan?"  
  
"I had to get a basket for the treats," Brendon said and shook his head. "Oh, man. What smells so good?"  
  
"Spence made veggie lasagna with the cheesy rolls," Ryan said, lifted up and then flopped back down with his head in Brendon's lap.  
  
"Oh, those are my favorites!" Brendon said while he pet the top of Ryan's head.  
  
"We know," Spencer said and took the wine out of the basket, set the eclairs on a plate for them all.   
  
Brendon smiled up at Spencer. "Lucky that I came over then, huh?"  
  
Ryan raised an eyebrow at Spencer. "Subtle."  
  
"What?" Brendon asked, looked up from his trying to pick the best eclair.   
  
"Nothing, Bren," Spencer replied, thwapped Ryan on the top of the head. "We're glad you could come to dinner." Spencer kicked back on the bean bag next to the couch. "Ryan and I have a proposition for you."  
  
Brendon stopped licking at the chocolate off the top of his eclair. "Is it about the threesome thing I talked to Ryan about earlier?"  
  
Spencer blinked and sat up so suddenly he almost knocked over the coffee table. "You what?"  
  
Brendon nodded and sucked the cream out of the center of the pastry. "Uh huh. Eye edd at ooo and Eye-an ud," he swallowed and licked his lips. "Should date Joe."  
  
"Come again?" Spencer asked, and Ryan shut his eyes and groaned.   
  
"That's what she said. Also, you and Ryan should date Joe. He's awesome enough for hot threesome sex. I mean, if I was presented with the same situation, I'd take them up on it. I mean, if it was offered, and it would mean something. You know. I probably should start moving from the random weeklong hook ups. Like Sven-"  
  
"Sean," both Ryan and Spencer corrected.  
  
"-right. Sean was...Sean was a mistake. I mean, a learning experience mistake. Hey, where - why are you guys taking me?" Brendon asked as Ryan tugged him up by a hand and Spencer grabbed the other. "Look. Listen to me. So, you two would be great for Joe. I can totally tell. I mean, Ryan shot me down earlier. But -- Spence...listen to reason. It's awesome, really. You two are awesome, and Joe is awesome. I'll bet he's awesome. Oh, hey!" Brendon stopped, bent down to pick up a candy from the floor. "A kiss!"  
  
"I am also done with subtle," Brendon heard from behind him.   
  
"Ooh, another candy!" he said, walking further down the hall to collect another kiss.  
  
"Fine, fine, but-" Spencer blinked as Brendon bent over again. "-I really didn't think that would work," he said, watching as Brendon kept moving down the hallway, bending to collect candies, his hands starting to fill.   
  
"You really should trust me more," Ryan said, nudging Spencer.  
  
Brendon turned to face them, hands out and eyes wide. "Um, guys. I love chocolate as much as the next fellow and all, but." No face had ever looked so much like a question mark, and then it cleared, and he smiled a little bit. "I was so right about the threesome thing. I mean, you being down for it."  
  
Spencer reached him first, pushed him backwards into the bedroom, remarked, "Yes, Brendon, you're really quite intuitive sometimes." He smacked Ryan lightly on the hip as he worked his way between Brendon and Spencer, sliding his hands under Brendon's thin t-shirt and walking him to the edge of the bed.  
  
Ryan was quick, and skinny, and sneaky...and apparently he'd listened every time Brendon'd rattled off his list of B.Urie's Bed Dos and Don'ts. Spencer didn't move to turn the lights off, he instead fitted himself along Ryan's back as he leant over Brendon, both their eyes open as their lips met, and then Brendon laughed, _laughed_ and pulled at Spencer's shirt, reached right around Ryan.  
  
"What's so funny?" Ryan's lips were against the shell of Brendon's ear, and he didn't sound hurt, just inquisitive, and Brendon smiled against his cheek.  
  
"Nothing. I just love being right." Brendon's sunny tone choked off as Ryan moved forward against him, pushed him flat onto the bed and climbed up to straddle his hips, also grinning but eyes dark. Spencer reached for the button on Ryan's jeans and looked at Brendon over his shoulder to say, "I think maybe you should work on getting yourself a little more naked."  
  
"Ryan is kind of inhibiting that process, in case you hadn't noticed, he's--" Brendon cut off again as Ryan rocked down against him and lifted his arms for Spencer to pull off his shirt. Ryan's skin was already flushed, hot, and Brendon knew he looked the same, and he reached out for Spencer to make sure he felt sticky and warm, too.  
  
Spencer gently untangled Brendon's fingers from his shirt. He had a job to do. He kissed the back of Ryan's shoulder and let himself have a little grind against his ass before pushing off the bed. "Ry, naked. Brendon, let me help." Spencer didn't wait for permission before he's stripped Brendon out of his ridiculously tight pants and Brendon's head spun a little watching himself being laid bare for them both.  
  
Brendon always thought that Spencer's little self assured smirks were hot, but in the current situation they were really kind of up there with volcano lava.  
  
"You think he realizes he mutters under his breath when he's turned on?" Ryan asked slipping back onto the bed and tugging Brendon back to him.  
  
"Not like he realizes he talks to himself all the time," Spencer said dropping Brendon's socks onto the pile of clothing on the floor next to the bed.   
  
"I can hear you," Brendon glared and then promptly shut his eyes when Ryan's hand wrapped around his cock (and really Brendon kind of disliked the word. He preferred to call his guy Little Bden, but he tended to get weird looks if he mentioned it to people. Not that he mentioned it to lots of people. Just boyfriends, the guy at the Barnes & Noble once, and Joe. But Joe had asked so Brendon figured it was fair.).  
  
"Oh honey, you're going to want to keep your eyes open for this," Ryan said and Brendon didn't need eyes to see if he was smirking.   
  
"Not my fault. You've got your hands all over me. It's distracting," Brendon shifted up to get more of Ryan's hand on more of him. He hadn't said that he minded the distractions. To Brendon's dismay, Ryan did stop.   
  
"Watch," Ryan said and Brendon made himself open his eyes. He really could have kissed Ryan for cluing him in on it. Spencer was peeling out of his clothes and it was a really hot not striptease, but a hot unwrapping of a Spencer shaped gift. Naked Spencer gift for him and Ryan. No waiting for Christmas or birthday. Brendon barely stopped himself from making grabby hands.   
  
Spencer had an indulgent little smile on his face as he added his clothes to the near mountain of crumpled jeans and shirts next to his side of the bed. "You're doing it again."  
  
"Drooling?" Brendon asked in a squeak staring at all the pale luscious fully biteable skin that he was really hoping he'd get to taste really soon.   
  
Spencer laughed that happy little chuckle that made Brendon think of sunshine and kittens. That in combination was a lethal combination to brain processes. Or at least it was for Brendon. He would have to check in with Ryan about it. Do a group analysis or something. After though. Right now he was busy staring at Spencer naked. A very naked hard Spencer kneeling up on the bed and over him. "Hey," he murmured two breaths before he kissed Brendon.  
  
Brendon moaned into it. He flailed up with one arm, the other pinned under Ryan. The free hand tangled in Spencer's hair holding him still. He didn't want this kiss to end. He didn't need oxygen, not when he could have this. He arched up, hips grinding against the hard jut of Spencer's thigh between his. It felt good, really fucking good. It wasn't enough, but it was a good start. "Best dream ever," Brendon muttered before turning his head at Ryan's urging and got a kiss that was right up there in hotness and possessiveness as Spencer's had been.  
  
"Not time to wake up yet," Spencer sat up, scooting down till his mouth blew over the tip of Brendon's cock. "Love how responsive you are." Spencer watched as Brendon whimpered and arched up again for him. "Can't wait to see how you are when one of us is fucking you."  
  
Ryan growled out a sound and kissed Brendon again.  
  
Spencer smirked when the growl ended abruptly. Brendon had taken the initiative and wrapped his own hand around Ryan's dick. Brendon pulled back and groaned as he stroked. "Oh hell. That's pretty," he murmured, stroking from base to tip. The strokes were long and teasing and Ryan was digging his fingers into the softness of Brendon's shoulder as he worked.   
  
"Very pretty. Can't wait to see you riding him, Brendon," Spencer punctuated the statement with a hard brief suck to the tip of Brendon's cock and smiled when it made Brendon's rhythm stutter. "Riding him, sucking me. Or me and him putting you between us with him in your mouth. So many things we could do."   
  
Brendon's needy moan was enough for Spencer to reach for the lube. Ryan did his best to keep Brendon occupied. They shared a brief look when Brendon's head tipped back on a gasp. "He really is good with his hands," Ryan sighed happily, his own hand stroked down Brendon's chest lightly. "We're going to make this good for you, Bren. So good you won't want to leave our bed."  
  
Brendon was seriously thinking that Ryan was a really truthful guy. He was pretty sure that if Spencer was that good with his fingers then he must be downright evil with with the rest of his body. Or at least that's what Brendon hoped. He tipped his head back to look up at Ryan and wanted to ask him if he should sign over all his worldly goods now or later. He didn't have time before Spencer's fingers twisted in him, stretching him even more. All that came out of Brendon's mouth was Spencer's name on a downright pitiful moan. Ryan's smirk shouldn't have been comforting, but it was a knowing one and Brendon was hoping that it meant that Ryan knew what to expect. Or at the very least remember to say nice things at his funeral when Brendon died from the sheer awesomeness of Spencer's sexing.   
  
"Ready, honey?" Spencer asked kissing the edge of Brendon's bellybutton. He grinned when Brendon mewled pitifully. "I'll take that as a yes."  
  
"I think it was more of a 'Please fuck me now, Spencer,'" Ryan drawled, petting back the sweat lank hair off Brendon's forehead.  
  
"Might be right," Spencer said and kneeled up to kiss Brendon. "Been waiting forever to have you here, B. Worth it though. You're fucking pretty."  
  
"No more talking. More with the sex, please," Brendon mumbled and was proud of himself as he snatched the condom from Ryan's hand and rolled it on Spencer. He wasn't so proud of how long it took him to get it on and how long he spent just stroking his hand up and down Spencer's cock.   
  
"Yeah, he makes pretty noises too," Ryan said laughing right into Brendon's ear.   
  
"Do you make pretty noises?" Brendon asked letting go of Spencer.   
  
"Guess you'll just have to find that out yourself," Ryan tipped Brendon's chin up and kissed him hard and demanding. The kiss was a heady thing that made Brendon almost miss the hot blunted pressure against his body. He groaned into it all and he heard Spencer make an answering noise.   
  
Ryan kept kissing him, drawing it out with long slow passes of tongue and teasing bites. He changed it and it seemed as if Spencer knew what signs to look for and as Ryan's kissing changed so did the rhythm of Spencer's strokes. Brendon felt like he was the center of it all, the full on recipient of both their attention and pleasure. It was awesome and sexy and Brendon had never felt more during sex ever.   
  
It kept on like that the entire night. Ryan would kiss him and start the entire cycle over again. It was a blur of happy touching and petting. Orgasms that melted into cuddling and teasing so like what they usually got up to (with the addition of the kissing and sex for Brendon) that Brendon didn't have time to question or feel awkward. It wasn't as if they gave him a chance. They kept his mouth and body busy till well past what would be considered late. The last thought Brendon had before finally falling asleep was that this had seriously been the best dream ever.  
  
"Seriously. Best dream ever."  
  
***

  
"Oh fuck," Brendon whispered looking around and realizing that while he wasn't completely retarded and thought that last night had been a great dream (best dream ever), he still knew that what he'd done, and he might have waited a minute or two to consider the possibilities of what this could mean. He gently untangled himself from under Spencer's arm. He sighed a big heavy sigh when Spencer grumbled in his sleep and automatically turned to spoon up against Ryan. He would have slapped himself in the head for maybe screwing up what Ryan and Spencer had with each other. He was not that guy. He nodded to himself, but glanced back again and gave a tiny little smile. It was nice though. He also wasn't the guy who was going to be a friend guy with benefits to his two best friends. It was just that he was a forever kind of guy. He had figured out that he needed more than a fling or two that lasted a couple of weeks before he got bored. He could see himself in a serious forever type of thing with Spencer or with Ryan or both, but he knew better. Spencer and Ryan were good guys and Brendon smiled a little and shook his head at his silliness. That must be it. They must still have thought he was broken up about Sven and tried to cheer him up. It was really kind of sweet.  
  
He really didn't know why that thought made him so sad. Brendon sighed. Yes, he did. He had mighty big crushes on them both since he'd started at Joe's and now it was like he'd had a piece of the forbidden chocolate cake and now he was going to be put in the Chokey. He paused. Okay, maybe the Matilda reference wasn't exactly right, but he'd gotten a little glimpse of what it could have been like with the three of them and having it now and knowing it really wasn't for him was really emo making.  
  
He forced himself out of bed and nearly succeeded in getting dressed without tripping or falling, but he tripped on someone's shoes (big and ugly. Ryan's more than likely, Brendon thought.) and heard Spencer mutter. Brendon snatched up the first shirt and hoodie he could and dashed out into the hall. He was still tugging on the shirt and the hoodie before he realized neither were his. He grimaced and debated going back into the bedroom to get his own, but he really wasn't looking forward to the Friends with Benefits morning after speech. He figured he could get them later (a couple of lifetimes from now seemed like a good time period.). He heard Spencer's muffled voice through the bedroom door and hurried out the front door and down the steps before Spencer could get up. The dawn was just starting to turn the sky above the treetops orange. He made his way down the street and farther away from Spencer and Ryan and a lot of What Could Have Beens But Really Weren't Going Tos.  
  
It was just better this way. Really.  
  
  
  
 **SATURDAY**  
  
Ryan and Spencer lived at 12th and Fulton, directly across from Golden Gate Park, and Brendon had never so much needed a morning with the fish. He had on what might or might not be his jeans, what was definitely Spencer's hoodie, maybe Ryan's shirt, but his own shoes -- Ryan and Spencer had enormous feet. He was pretty sure he didn't have his keys. The Academy of Sciences would just barely be opening in twenty minutes, so Brendon darted between buses and cars and bikes, waving and attempting his usual smile and headed into the center of the park.  
  
He kicked at stones in his path, kept his hood up and head down, and did his very best to appear as the saddest little boy in the world. Brendon figured he was probably doing an excellent job. He stared at his fingernails while he waited to buy a ticket (he was excited in finding his wad of cash and atm card in the back pocket of what he now knew were his jeans), to enter and head directly for the aquarium. Well, maybe a stop at the gift shop first, he wanted a stuffed fish to hold onto while getting a hold of himself.  
  
Brendon chose a sea turtle, made his way down the stairs to the humid, but still empty aquarium. He sat on one of the few benches cut into the walls and stared up at the largest display, a huge wall of brightly colored fish darting around rocks and coral, in and out of the streams of early sunlight. He looked for the Brendonfish, the one he'd found on his first visit to the aquarium, the first time he met Joe.  
  
He'd been in San Francisco six days, sleeping on various couches and in a bed or two, and he still hadn't done the one thing he'd come to the city to do -- see the ocean. Brendon found himself instead at a museum at eleven on a Tuesday morning, and he used the last of his emergency charge card funds to buy a ticket in. After going face to face with a monkey skull and fitting his hand into a gorilla's print, he made his way down to see the fish. He sat next to a guy around his own age with a well-tended fro (and Brendon knew from well-tended hair, okay, he _almost_ went all the way through cosmetology school) and chunky black glasses and what Brendon was pretty sure was a joint tucked over one ear, nodded politely, and stared up at the wall sized display of brightly colored tropical fish. It was ... well, dazzling, to say the least.   
  
He kept his eye on one particular fish, small and mostly black but streaked through with neon here and there. It swam a bit frantically, but with rhythm, from group to group but ended up alone in a rather populated part of the tank. Brendon was a bit mesmerized by the schools and their tos and fros of color, and he figured if it was this good for him, it must be pretty amazing for the dude next to him. He was more than sure it was a joint, this was not his first time at the rodeo. Just when Brendon realized he was sort of staring at the guy instead of the fish, said guy leaned in and remarked, "I know I'm pretty and everything, but um. Do I know you or something? I mean, I have a good memory for faces..." and he paused and laughed a bit, "...relatively speaking."  
  
Brendon ducked his head a little and grinned. "No, I'm sorry. I was just thinking that if I thought the fish were beautiful, you must think they're effing amazing." He unconsciously gestured toward's the guy's left ear and then looked chastisingly at his own hand.  
  
The dude smiled widely and stood. "Want to go outside?" He mimicked Brendon's gesture towards his ear. "Also, did you just say effing?"  
  
Brendon considered briefly that he'd gone places with much shadier people in the last week and got to his feet. "There are children here! ...Somewhere. And, sure. Thanks. I can't like, throw in or anything."  
  
The guy looked offended. "I'm pretty sure I didn't say anything about that." He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs. "Name's Joe."  
  
"Brendon. I'm Brendon."  
  
The guy - Joe, Joe led him out into the park and sat down in a shady spot under a live oak just so as to not be conspicuous, handed Brendon the joint and a lighter. "My own personal stash, tell me what you think."  
  
Effing - no, fucking - fucking fantastic was what Brendon thought, and he said as much. Joe sat back on his elbows with a satisfied grin. "Yep. That's what I think, too. So, Brendon, tell me what brings you to the aquarium on a Tuesday morning."  
  
He started a bit tentatively, but two hits in, and Brendon was telling Joe that he'd gone in to the aquarium to see the ocean.  
  
Joe raised one eyebrow and said, "You know the beach is like. Twenty blocks on the bus from here."  
  
Brendon shrugged and grinned. "This was close enough."  
  
Apparently Joe's personal stash was also some sort of a truth serum because two _more_ hits in, and Brendon told Joe, "I don't like sleeping on strange couches or in strange beds as much as one might think a young man of my age and good looks would, and I don't want to go back to Vegas." He paused, fidgeted. "Don't guess you'd be looking for an adorable, unemployed couch sleeper."  
  
Joe, to his credit, didn't look fazed or worried or even surprised, and he nodded to himself, got to his feet. "Come with me."  
  
Brendon blurted out, "Um."  
  
"Today is the day, young Brendon, when your new found glorious fairy Joefather makes at least some of your dreams come true."  
  
Brendon knew that things weren't actually this easy in the real and actual world, but he'd known, he'd just known he'd made the right move sticking by Disney. A whole new world, indeed, except the magic carpets were MUNI buses, and then they were standing in ... a bakery? Except it smelled like patchouli and pine along with the chocolate and sugar, and the hot blond behind the display counter had suspiciously red eyes to match Joe and Brendon's own.  
  
"Joe, man, can I ban Mrs. Linton?"  
  
"No. Brendon, this is Tom. Tom is departing for parts much colder, much less friendly, and unknown--"   
  
"...also known as Chicago, _also_ known as Joe's hometown," the blond interjected.  
  
"--Tom, this is Brendon. He'll be taking your job."  
  
"Nice ta meetcha. How'd Joe manage to rope you into the cause?" Tom took off one plastic glove and held out his hand.  
  
Brendon was relatively certain he looked much like the fish he'd been watching earlier, eyes wide and mouth agape, opened and closed. Tom quirked an eyebrow and turned back to Joe, "So, is cute yet mute Brendon also taking the place downtown? Gotta know, Joe, got approximately forty billion Craigslisters making even the almighty Gmail inbox whimper."  
  
"Like he could live anywhere else on my salary."  
  
Six months later, and Brendon still lived in Tom's shoebox in the TenderNob, worked five days a week at Joe's dispensary in SoMa, and knew what those terms meant, even. He pretty much loved his life and now he'd gone and ruined it all by sleeping with Ryan and Spencer. He found the Brendonfish, of course canoodling with two other fish, even his little oceanic self couldn't keep his fins to himself.  
  
"Get a hold of yourself, Brendon Boyd," he told himself sternly and Brendonturtle. The plastic eyes looked up at him kindly and Brendon sighed again. He brightened a little knowing where he ought to go. A place where no one would look for him. He gave Brendonfish a wave and stopped himself from telling him to swim away before he got his heart broken. He wasn't crazy. It was really hard to hear through water and glass.  
  
***  
  
"You're _sure_ he's not under the couch cushions? He's kind of little." Ryan's hair was wild, and all of their bedding was on the floor, and Brendon just wasn't in the apartment. He wasn't in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, and now, apparently, not under the couch cushions.  
  
Spencer's tone was a little tight but patient. "I'm sure. Why did he go."  
  
Not where but why, not a question but a statement. "We did this right." Ryan also refused to ask.  
  
"I made éclairs." That at least got a laugh out of them both, but they wilted against their bare mattress and each other. "Okay, seriously, this wasn't supposed to be some emo morning after, what the fuck." Spencer sat up, reached under the bed for a beat up Jack Daniel's collectible tin box, efficiently rolled a joint and handed it to Ryan to light.  
  
"I am supposed to be enjoying some very enthusiastic morning after head right now. Or giving it. I'm not picky."  
  
"You are incredibly picky, particularly about that." Incredulous could only begin to describe Spencer's tone.  
  
"Lies. Also, you're getting off topic, here. Brendon totally bailed on us. And we have been doing this right the whole time, so what the actual fuck, why isn't he here?" Ryan was really, genuinely hurt under his faux anger and real confusion, and Spencer knew that, of course.  
  
"Don't know. Should probably find out, you think?" Spencer stood to dress, reached for his jeans. "Ugh, that fucker stole my heart _and_ my hoodie."  
  
***  
  
"So, you really aren't going to make me talk?" Brendon asked fingering the little bags of leaves. He'd been there for a few hours since his trip to the aquarium. He'd spent a bit of it just sitting and sighing on the couch up on the second floor watching the going ons. It was relaxing to watch the precision of work. He'd napped for a little bit, last night's fun times had been exhausting. He finally worked up the nerve to try and help with the work and ask the question.  
  
Jepha raised his eyebrow and folded another box for him. "Did you want me to?"  
  
Brendon shook his head and started to sort the tiny little bags. "Thanks." He paused and read the label. "Jesus, you can get away with charging this much?"  
  
Jepha just shook his head and added a few vinyl pouches to the stack next to Brendon. "How much do you think it should cost?"  
  
"I don't know. But this seems really freaking expensive for some leaves!" Brendon said then looked up. "Sorry. No offense."  
  
Jepha patted Brendon's shoulder. "No worries. Just get them tagged and put them in labeled boxes or pouches. The pound canisters are for people who want to do a tasting and then purchase fresh in bulk."  
  
"Huh. That's pretty cool. Do you need special things for a tasting?"  
  
"Not really. It depends on the leaf. Rinsing is important. Letting it flower for you. The right amount of water and letting it be," Jepha said calmly.  
  
Brendon frowned and looked at the green clumps of plants. "Huh. So-."  
  
"No, we don't smoke the tea either Brendon," Jepha said. "We drink it. I'll make you a cup of the chamomile. It seems like you need it. I'll be back."  
  
Jepha was not surprised to find Joe downstairs in the cafe. Jepha owned the two story building with the cafe on the first floor and the tea room on the second floor. He gave Cassadee a wave and went to put a kettle on to boil for Brendon's tea. "I take it Cassadee's told you."  
  
"Told me?" Joe asked blinking sleepily. He had both hands open loosely like he was waiting for them to be filled.   
  
"That your shoppe boy is upstairs looking very sad and broken hearted and refusing to tell anyone what the matter is. But I do think he's not wearing his own clothing," Jepha said raising a telling eyebrow.   
  
"Uh," Joe said rubbing his face. It really was too fucking early for all of this. He just wanted his coffees. "No?"  
  
"Well, he is. Are you going to collect him?" Jepha asked hearing the kettle whistle. He prepared the tea and put it a paper cup for travel.  
  
Joe let out a big breath. "Yeah. Cass, I'll be back for my stuff." A sad Brendon was practically unheard of and one that was hiding was pretty rare as well.  
  
"Bren?" Joe called sticking his head in the doorway. He watched as Brendon's shoulders went up almost to his ears as he heard Joe. "Heard you were up here. What's going on?"  
  
Brendon shook his head and only looked at Joe when Joe came around to the other side of the table to stand in front of him. "It's nothing Joe. I swear!"  
  
"Brendon."  
  
Brendon shook his head again, harder this time and pressed his lips together tight. "No. I'm not telling you about what happened last night."  
  
Joe groaned. He really wished he'd just stayed in bed and damned the morning coffee to hell, but the machine was still broken and he liked his mochas. "What happened last night?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Brendon."  
  
Brendon threw his hands up and started pacing then looked at Joe. "I didn't mean to. I mean, I did. I wanted to. But I slept with Spencer. And Ryan. And it happened and it was awesome, but not really and. And. Uhm. And."  
  
"Finally," Joe muttered.  
  
"What?" Brendon asked blinking in confusion.  
  
Joe really thought that he was not awake for this. He was going to go have his coffee. Then he was going to sit down with Brendon and explain all this shit to him. He was. He was going to get his coffee, bring it back to the dispensary, and have a talk. That was his plan. "Let's go, Brendon."  
  
"What?" Brendon asked and found himself being walked downstairs with Joe's hand on his shoulder.   
  
"We're going to the shoppe. We're going to talk. I'm going to drink my coffee and you're going to tell me everything those two idiots said and did," Joe said accepting the tray with the coffees and Brendon's tea. "Thanks, Cass."  
  
Cassadee just shook her head as the door swung closed behind Brendon with his seaturtle toy and Joe with one hand on Brendon's back and the other holding the tray of drinks. "They sure do have a lot of stuff going down there."  
  
"It's why I stay upstairs. And I lock the door," Jepha muttered.  
  
***  
  
Jon sat on the back steps of the sweet shoppe, waited for Joe to bring back his coffee and watched Gabe and Vicky unload their wares onto some ... actually kind of amazing wooden tables, handmade but with fold up legs and beautifully carved. Gabe caught him looking and walked over. "Walker, the pajamaed look is good for you. Are you staring at Vicky's legs?"  
  
"Nope, the tables'." Jon sat back, peered up (and up) at Gabe from his seated position on the stoop.  
  
"Ah, yes. Nate made those. Good with his hands, that one. He could teach you...you might like it in the desert." Gabe waved one of Vicky's larger glass toys at Jon. "Or you could learn this from Vicky. Modeled after me, this one."  
  
Jon buried his face in his hands. "I can't unhear that, Saporta, and I could have gone my whole life without knowing what your dick looks like. Goddammit, where is my coffee?"  
  
Through the front door of the sweet shoppe came Joe and Brendon, much like that first time, though now Joe balanced a hot drink carrier in one hand and Brendon in the other. They both waved a quick hello to Disashi behind the glass case, and Joe ushered Brendon up to his office on two and sat him down in the overstuffed match to the chair in the lounge.  
  
"I'll be right back, Bden, and then we're going to talk about this, okay, I think there's stuff you finally need to admit you hear." Joe wasn't a hard ass, but sometimes his people were retarded, and when that happened, it was own up time. "Help yourself, you know where everything is." Joe put a friendly hand on Brendon's shoulder and squeezed, headed back down the stairs and out through the back, nearly collided into Jon as he came through the screen door.  
  
"Coffee. Got a Brendon upstairs I need to take care of. Have I mentioned that I'm not old enough to have children my own age?" Joe handed off one of the paper cups and looked out at the Airstream and tables crowding one side of the alley and then at Gabe. "Leave Jon alone, he wants no part of your sand-ridden shenanigans."  
  
Jon flicked Joe's thigh and looked wounded. "Hey, I might want, you don't know."  
  
"Ass." Joe kicked lightly at Jon's side.  
  
Jon slid his eyes to the right to get a pretty good look at Trohman's ass and gave a resounding, affirmative "Mmhmm."  
  
Gabe, who'd stared suspiciously at the red patch of skin just above Jon's collar, snapped his eyes up to not meet Jon's, as they were still slanted towards Joe, and Joe's own eyes were rolled upwards towards the heavens, and the whole thing was incredibly comedic.  
  
"Okay, as much as I'm enjoying this interplay of wit and hilarity, there really is something upstairs I've got to get back to." Joe spun on his heel and headed back into the kitchen, ignored Jon's "I've heard that before", and was broadsided by Spencer and Ryan as he came through the swinging door to the candy shop. "Oh, you have actually got to be kidding me."  
  
"Joe! We were just looking for you." Ryan gripped Joe's shoulder in earnest while Spencer hulked a bit behind him.  
  
"Brendon, he means we were looking for Brendon." Spencer shrugged when Ryan turned to him, affronted. "Well, we were."  
  
"And I'm looking for the life I had before it was turned into a gay, gay, _gay_ romantic comedy." Joe finally sipped his coffee and didn't give one tiny whit that it was cold. "And for a new coffee maker as soon as I can get down to Costco. Come on, Brendon is upstairs. Time to get it all out on the table, no more of this subtle, tiptoeing through the tactful tulips bullshit."  
  
Ryan looked kind of awed. "Wow, Joe, this is very manly and bosslike of you. Except for the part where our sex lives are involved."  
  
Joe grumbled and paused before pushing through the beads. "And oh, how I wish they weren't. You just had to put him in your bed." It was still pretty early in the day (for a Saturday), his coffee was cold, he was playing concerned fatherly figure for guys his own age, he was definitely, most definitely, not stoned enough for this.  
  
Spencer and Ryan both stopped short and wore matching indignant faces. "Fuck you, Joe, what, Brendon's just the next trick we fuck and kick to the curb. Must be fall at Joe's." Spencer's fists clenched open and closed, and Joe thought for a split second that the kid might pop him.  
  
Frozen on the head shoppe side of the doorframe was Brendon, who'd passed just in time to hear his name followed shortly by trick and fuck...from Spencer, and he was kind of whited out on that, and Matt was also stock still where he stood stocking pipe bags, eyes wide as he stared at Brendon, who stared blindly through the beads. He'd seen Ryan and Spencer come in the front of the sweet shoppe through the window in Joe's office and figured if he were fast enough, he could skedaddle out through the front of the head shoppe unseen. He really didn't want to talk about this right now. Like, really, really, really. His plan was going _swimmingly_ , Brendon must say.  
  
He raised one finger to his lips and shook his head at Matt as he darted out through the front, only the bell signaling his exit.  
  
"Dammit, Spencer." Joe pushed through the curtain and headed up the stairs. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. You just. You know Brendon."  
  
Ryan sounded impatient and winded, clattering up the stairs behind him. "We did this right, Joe, and _you_ know it. Brendon," he called, "what the hell?"  
  
"What the hell?" Joe echoed lowly, stopping short in the entry to his office. No Brendon in sight, just the stuffed seaturtle propped up on the armchair and his tea balanced precariously on the edge of Joe's desk.  
  
***  
  
Brendon slumped in the plastic molded seat and stared out the window. There weren't too many cars on the road just yet, but enough that Brendon could easily pick out the out of town tourist cars and some of the familiar ones from the neighborhood. He really shouldn't have snuck out on Joe. But he really wasn't wanting to stick around for whatever talking to that he plus Ryan and Spencer were going to get up to when they finally got to where he was. He'd heard enough of what Spencer had said. It had confirmed pretty much he'd already thought. It hurt, but it was the truth enough. He couldn't be that mad. He thunked his head back against the window. He'd been riding the bus for a couple of hours now. The driver probably thought he was up to some thing. The last couple had at least. He got off at the next stop and headed up the hill, the path familiar.   
  
He jogged up the steps and pushed open the glass fronted door. He smiled at the tinkly little bell. "Hey, what's up?" He looked up at the greeting and forced a bigger smile when Butcher came around the desk. Brendon always thought that with the nickname Butcher it'd be weird working in a clinic, but no one seemed to mind.   
  
"Nothing." Brendon said shrugging.  
  
Butcher made a noise and hustled Brendon into William's office. "Dr. Beckett," he said and pushed Brendon at Bill.   
  
"Oh, oh come here," Bill said already opening his arms and Brendon walked into the hug already slumping forward.   
  
Brendon knew that Bill was good for hugs. They were better than vitamins! Sure, they were a little bony and pokey in places, but Brendon thought he had a lot of practice with bony pokey hugs thanks to Ryan. That thought made Brendon sigh and snuggle harder.   
  
"Ahhh, rough day?" Bill asked and rubbed Brendon's back. "You break up with Sean?"  
  
Brendon nodded but didn't elaborate further. He didn't want to talk about it.  
  
"Didn't know you had gotten that close," Bill said and Brendon made a noise that could be a 'no' or 'more hugs' or a mixture of the two. Bill settled for more hugs as it was Brendon's default.  
  
Butcher poked his head back into the room and set down a couple of cans of soda and the little bag of pretzels that Brendon liked. Brendon sniffled a little and smiled at Butcher. Butcher was pretty awesome most days, special days when Brendon was feeling particularly low Butcher was super awesome. Super awesome in that he gave Brendon the pretzels and soda that they reserved for people who donated blood at the clinic. Why couldn't Brendon be stupidly crushing on Butcher?  
  
"Thanks," Bill said with a warm little smile.  
  
Right. Because everyone in the universe knew how awesome Butcher was. Especially Dr. Bill. Brendon sighed and went to flop sadly into the corner of Bill's couch with his pretzels and soda.   
  
"Mike said to give you these. I told him you were sad," Butcher said as he handed over a couple of stickers from the kids' treasure chest.   
  
"Oh!" Brendon peeled the backings off them and stuck them on his hoodie. Carden was a little creepy, but always let him dig to the bottom of the kiddie chest to get the best stickers. Actually, he didn't have to be sad, but they always made him get them out himself. And they announced it over the intercom. It was a weird office.  
  
Greta poked her head in around Butcher's in the doorway. It was Saturday and her internship at the compassionate care clinic was in the records room. It was also one of the reasons she had the best gossip. Not that Greta would gossip about clients, but mostly about staff from the clinic. "I heard you were here. You okay?"  
  
Brendon shook his head then shrugged. "I need my spare key."  
  
Greta opened her mouth to say something more but shut it at the look on Brendon's face. "Sure, honey. I'll go grab it from my purse."   
  
"Okay, since you're not going to talk. And I'm not saying you have to, I'm going to write you a prescription," Bill said pulling out his pad. He scrawled for a few minutes before passing it to Butcher who then handed it off to Brendon. "Go home. A full night of sleep alone. But augmented beforehand with cookies, ice cream, and/or/with Steel Magnolias or Bring It On - at your discretion."  
  
Brendon took the slip of paper and read the directions carefully. "Yes, doctor." He got another hug from Bill for his trouble.   
  
"You want one of us to give you a ride?" Bill asked as Greta came back with the key.  
  
Brendon shook his head no. "I'll be okay. Thanks, Greta."   
  
Greta gave him her own big hug and sighed. "I bet I know what this is about. And I've got some words for some people."  
  
Brendon gave her a funny little smile. "It's fine. It's cool, really. I have my instructions. I'm just gonna...go."   
  
Greta crossed her arms over her chest and they all watched as a very sad Brendon walked out the door.  
  
***  
The apartment had a closet that was big enough to hold a bed, so it did, and the rest of Brendon's things lived out in the studio space. Tom'd left most of his furniture and such behind when he moved for Brendon to use, had been pretty wise about Brendon having come to the city with nothing much of his own. Brendon had done what he could to make it homey for himself, and he kind of liked it most of the time. He'd hung sunny curtains in the window on the wall that constituted the "kitchen", a two-tile deep stretch of floor and cabinetry with a one basin sink and 3/4 refrigerator, throw pillows were strewn about the futon, and he had a Lucy moving Charlie's football welcome mat. It was a pretty Brendon space.  
  
Brendon dropped his paper grocery bag in the kitchen and went to change into flannel pants. Ice cream bowls weren't exactly comfortable with nakedness sometimes. He made sure to set Greta's spare on the table next to the door so he'd remember to give it back to her for the next time he forgot his own somewhere. Probably not at Ryan and Spencer's again.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Brendon was huddled in a blanket with a pint of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch (spooned into a bowl, Spencer was particular about that, not eating food from a carton. Except, for some reason, greasy Chinese takeout eaten with chopsticks out of paper boxes. Brendon didn't question. He just traded glances with Ryan, who rolled his eyes and smirked.) and watching Shelby's wedding come together. There was a joint burning in the ashtray, a box of Kleenex at one hand and a box of Oreos at the other. Brendon was following Bill's instructions perfectly.  
  
He was pretty sure it was going to be a two pint night. He wondered if maybe he'd been indulging a bit much, hadn't he just done this two nights ago? No matter, Brendon had doctor's orders, and Ouiser and Clarrie were just about what he needed indeed. And after he'd lost it along with M'Lynn, there was the promise of the delicious cheerleader guy waiting after.  
  
Bill was kind of the best doctor ever. Except sometimes Ryan and Spencer had the same sort of cute, bickering relationship Brendon was seeing everywhere, and that was really the last thing he wanted to be thinking about. (Not really, though, because Ryan and Spencer were really adorable when they bantered, and sometimes they included Brendon in that.) "C'mon, Jack," he scolded his joint, "blow my mind." Clandestine Farms' finest Jack Herer, Cannabis Cup winner and the star of Joe's private stock. Hey, Joe'd told him to help himself.  
  
It'd been awhile since Brendon had slept on his own, he was always either on the futon at Ryan and Spencer's or in his own bed (or another's) with another, but his closet bedroom was close without being claustrophobic, and once he was more tired and less stoned and full to the gills with various forms of chocolate and milk, he barely noticed that he was totally alone when he crawled under the covers.  
  
  
  
 **SUNDAY**  
  
Of course, Brendon's closet bedroom didn't have windows, so he woke up to pale light struggling its way in through the open door and the slatted blinds in the eastern windows before that. He kept his head under his blanket and his eyes closed and groaned at his combination dry mouth and bellyache. Bill was decidedly not the best doctor ever. He still felt crappy about Ryan and Spencer, and speaking of which, he was going to have to man up about that pretty soon with the tasting that night. Maybe Joe wouldn't care if he called out. Which he couldn't do, since his phone was in his hoodie, which was still at Ryan and Spencer's, and plus, he'd walked out on Joe the day before. Now Brendon felt a headache coming on to join the rest of it.  
  
Okay, he could do this. Time to face up and steel himself and let go. "Every little thing's gonna be alright," he told himself solemnly, and then pulled the cover more tightly up over his head. Brendon began composing his apology speech. "Hey, Ry, hey Spence. So, guys, hey, sorry about the whole running out thing yesterday morning! I just want you to know that everything is cool, and friendship is totally the important thing, right, hos before bros or something like that. I totally get it, right, I know I've been into the random hook up once or twice or, y'know, whatever, and thanks...? It was really awesome and everything, and..." And Brendon babbled even to himself in situations like this, he stopped and pulled the blanket down for a quick moment to get a breath of non-funky-Brendon air before he started over.  
  
"Ry, Spence, how's it going, dudes? Isn't this shindig wicked? Pete throws a mean party, for sure. So, yeah, I guess you probably thought I was overreacting a little bit with the running out, and --someone is breaking into my house."  
  
There was the incessant sound of metal on metal, as if someone had a key were trying to open his door, but he had the spare so that couldn't be it. Brendon was being robbed. And he was pantsless. He was going to be one of those Darwin Award obituaries. "Oh, God. God, I'm going to be on the Forensic Files." He whimpered and he could already hear the announcer in the scary TruCrimes voiceover. "Sadly, all he could do was wait. Naked and weaponless as his attackers drew ever closer. And poor Brendon Boyd Urie with no pants on was killed on his new Transformer sheets." Brendon tugged the covers closer around his head and hoped that maybe the robbers would just think he was a bunch of pillows under the bed.   
  
"He's got to be here."  
  
The robbers were looking for him! Brendon bit back the whimper. Maybe they were kidnappers or government agents sent to collect him for an experiment.   
  
"You said that when we checked the aquarium yesterday."  
  
Brendon paused in his horrific picturing of himself strapped down to a metal table with probes sticking out of him. That sounded like Ryan and Spencer. He let out a relieved sigh. It was just Ryan and Spencer. He groaned. It was just _Ryan and Spencer_. "Crap." He curled up into an even tighter ball and tried to tug the comforter over himself through his sheet. He prayed that this time the Invisible Game worked.   
  
It didn't.  
  
The bed rocked slightly as Brendon felt first one weight on one side of his bed then another on the other side of his bed sat down. He figured the weighty side with the pokier bits was Ryan and the one rubbing at his back was Spencer. The pokier bits were familiar. Not that kind of pokey, but in the elbows kind of way. Not that Brendon was thinking or should be thinking about that kind of pokey what with how he's supposed to be manning up. He was supposed to be resigned to the fact that they were just going to be friends. Just Friends category for them both for him. That was where they were going to be with each other. In his bed. Just Friends in his bed.   
  
Brendon sighed. He really hated his life. Right now. So much.  
  
"Hello lump in the bed. We're looking for Brendon. Who is a pussy. And ran away," Spencer said but kept rubbing Brendon's back in a totally not dick way in complete opposite to what he was saying.  
  
Ryan nodded. "Oddly he left various items in our possession which led us to believe he might want them back at some occasion. If you looked at it through a psychological lense, it might be way that he was maybe subconsciously challenging us to find him. But that's just hypothetical."  
  
"And also programmed into his GPS on his phone," Spencer added.  
  
"I'm not a pussy," Brendon said from under the covers.  
  
Spencer poked him lightly. "You ran out on us."  
  
"I did it before you could kick me out," Brendon said and glared at Spencer through two layers of blankets and sheets. "Besides you just think I'm just some trick you fuck and then kick to the curb." He refused to cry. He'd done that enough last night with M'Lynn. "But I'm a grown up. So, I get it. We're cool. Just Friends and all that. I mean, so what if I had stupid crushes on you both. I'm older and wiser now. So you can... you know. Leave me alone now." He knew there must be some Ryan and Spencer mental mindmeld going on above his head because they were still there, not talking.  
  
"So, we agreed. You're an idiot," Ryan said tugging at the blanket gently.  
  
"Great. Thanks. You guys are pals. Good thing I'm just a fuck and run. Saved you the trouble of the kicking to the curb," Brendon mumbled. "Go away, please."  
  
Spencer tugged off the comforter while Brendon still valiantly held onto the sheet over his head. "Brendon..."  
  
Brendon closed his eyes and press the sheet against his cheek. "No, it's really cool. You guys have a great dynamic together. Anyone could see that. I wouldn't want to screw that up, even if it was really great last night. Especially when Ryan did that thing with his tongue to you Spencer and it made you-."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Ryan and Spencer grinned.  
  
"Or when I was on top and you know," Brendon muttered.  
  
They all three sighed that time.  
  
"So, I get it. I get that it was what it was," Brendon finished lamely.   
  
Spencer tugged the sheet completely off and pinned Brendon back against the bed. "You are not just some one time thing, Bren. Ryan and I have been crazy about you for forever. We want you to be our boyfriend. We want you to not run away after we have sex. Or be a sad Brendon after a really really fucking good night of sex. We've kind of wanted you with us since we met you. We were fucking wooing you from almost day one."  
  
"Well, not day one really. You were kind of annoying that first day," Ryan pointed out. Spencer took the pillow and thwapped Ryan in the face with it. "More like the second or third day. You were wearing the red cords and that yellow shirt."  
  
Brendon blinked rapidly and looked over at Spencer's soft little smile and Ryan's smirkier one. "Really?"  
  
Ryan's smile softened into something a little gentler and he nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"Yeah," Spencer said and leaned down for a kiss and frowned when Brendon put a hand on Spencer's chest.   
  
Brendon scrambled out from under them. "Brush teeth. Gotta pee." He slid off the edge of the bed beaming at them and bouncing a little. "Also, uhm. Me too. Yes, I want to be your boyfriend. But uhm. Make up kisses and sex after I brush my teeth. Promise."  
  
Spencer and Ryan laughed and collapsed on the bed. The kiss could wait a little longer. They'd make sure they made the most of the rest of the morning.  
  
***  
  
Joe and Jon showed up to Clan Farms around noon-thirty to help set up for the harvest tasting, Jon'd wanted to get there earlier to ensure that Pete didn't destroy or touch or go near the plants in any way. Joe wasn't sure how'd managed to convince Jon that they couldn't feasibly live on the farm. They walked up to said destroyer, whose trowel was as shiny and pristine, unused as ever, but that was no assurance no damage had been done. Pete had once killed a clone by breathing on it.  
  
That was not a joke.   
  
(He'd also thrown up on a flat of Jon's baby Purple Trainwreck hybrids, but no one ever mentioned that. Ever. Not even Brendon.)  
  
"Dudes! Welcome to Clandestine Farms!" Pete threw his arms wide, narrowly avoided Jon's chin with the gardening tool.  
  
Joe grinned and Jon rolled his eyes, pushed Pete's arms down. "Where's Patrick, you idiot?"  
  
"You wound me, Walker. He's in the studio with Snoop Dogg, they'll be out later. Hey, Joe, I said where you gonna run to now?" Pete had a blunt way with words on rare occasion, for sure. Joe's eyes first rolled at Pete and then went wide, and Jon pulled away when Joe turned on him.  
  
"Studio, like here. You didn't tell me?" Joe might have been able to pull off angry if he hadn't looked so glazed. Angry was not an easy look to pull off when wearing a large knitted...well, tam was the only way to put it, a fading Joy Division shirt, and a relatively excited grin.  
  
Pete made the ridiculous Dave Coulier gestures and accompanied it with "Cut it out. He showed up after Jon'd headed back into the city on Friday. He's kept my wee little Pattycakes locked up in studio for two days, I miss his face. And his ass." His face went wistful as Jon and Joe buried theirs in their hands. Their brief moment of silence was broken by the Cobra's Airstream as it rattled up the gravel drive, skidding to a stop just short of the fireplace. Joe shrugged at Jon and Pete, walked over to the bus, and motioned for Gabe to roll down the window. A few moments later, the Airstream was parked a safe distance away, and Joe had a pretty good hold on one of Gabe's ears.   
  
"Their friendship goes way, way back," Pete murmured gleefully. Jon nodded, trying his best not to laugh at the sight before them.  
  
The other cars (and cabs) weren't far behind the Cobra, and the sun went down early in the fall on the Bay. Jon lit the well-stacked logs and brush (he commended Pete for his bonfire building abilities, he grudgingly gave him that) around six o'clock with some sort of Conga line going on near the Cobra bus -- at least Jon _hoped_ it was a Conga line, and not some ritualistic dance performed before a sacrifice. You couldn't ever be sure with Gabe. Each of the Cab tried to psych the others up to go and talk to Snoop Dogg, who seemed not at all out of place, surprisingly. He held a blunt in one hand and was gesturing to Patrick with the other, saying something about the moon.  
  
(Patrick thought maybe Snoop had more in common with Pete than anyone could ever realize, but he would never, ever say. It really could just be the pot.)  
  
It was a quite festive atmosphere for such a stoned crowd, and the experiments Jon'd been doing with the wine grape soil and a hybrid of the heavier Indica purples were crowned a great success. Another year in a row for Clan Farms on the winner's list at the Cannabis Cup, for sure. Pete knew his manners well enough (for Pete) to play host and flittered about with drinks, his trowel, and wings. Joe was just glad it wasn't a tail.  
  
"Speaking of tail, has anyone seen Brendon yet?" Joe was completely nonchalant, but his tone was impish.  
  
Jon half-choked on his next sip of Miller Lite before cracking up. "Best segue I have ever heard in my life. Excellent work, Trohman. And no, the littlest shop boy has not yet arrived. Got some words for him after he ran out yesterday?"  
  
"Guess I should, huh?" Joe shrugged. "Just want to make sure he's not sleeping in a doorway somewhere. He definitely trends towards the melodramatic."  
  
Joe gestured around and grinned against the mouth of his bottle. "Don't they all? Your little army of stoners."  
  
"You are part of that army, sir." Joe saluted with the wooden pipe he'd taken to calling Gandalf and started walking towards the snack table. Not the Vicky's glass table. He had to see what delicious yet nutritious goodies Andy and Mixon'd shown up with. Or, rather, dropped off and then fled before inhaling toxic second hand smoke. Mmmh, catering by FC Farms, Joe felt very Homer Simpson at that moment. And also actually worried about Brendon. He didn't want to get a phone call that Brendon'd been found sleeping in a park because he'd refused to go get his keys from Ryan and Spencer, the kid could be that stupid and stubborn from time to time, or always.  
  
Brendon could be heard over the ruckus as he finally arrived. He had the stereo cranked up and was gesturing, or appeared to be gesturing, to Jon.   
  
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Joe muttered shaking his head.  
  
Jon sang right on back with Aladdin's part and Brendon jumped out of the car as Spencer parked and Ryan opened the door for him. "Glad you could make it."  
  
Brendon's eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed with happiness. "I'm in love Jonny. Love twice over. Well, more than that, but double awesome love." He gave Jon a big hug and waved at Spencer and Ryan who were taking their time in making their way over.  
  
"That's awesome. So, did they actually go through with the serenading thing or was it the trail of kisses that got you? They've been debating both for a while now," Jon asked.  
  
Spencer blushed and he made a cutting gesture over Brendon's head that he wasn't quick enough to hide when Brendon turned. "You planned that?" He went a little starry eyed and launched himself at Spencer. "You do like me!" Spencer didn't even have time to answer before Brendon was kissing him hard and eager.  
  
"Not upset you're not getting credit?" Jon asked offering Ryan the pipe.  
  
Ryan smirked and shook his head. "Nah. Brendon thanked me a lot on the ride down. A lot of thanks."  
  
Jon was grateful that Joe had his mouth full of smoke. Then again Jon wasn't too grateful when Joe choked on said smoke when Brendon not so quietly asked Patrick if three people could fit in the recording booth. Naked.  
  
Jon wasn't grateful, but it was funny.  
  
***  
  
While none of the Cab had managed to approach Snoop yet, Brendon had no problem just walking on up to say hello. He was walking on air, high literally and figuratively on life and love and the harvest, and he needed advice. He possibly also needed to stop bouncing, but that was no matter just then. He'd asked Patrick about the Joe situation, and Patrick had thought for a moment before telling him that maybe Brendon needed to approach the Doggfather while he was in town. Patrick had had to turn away quickly, but Brendon understood the gravity with which Patrick gave such advice, and once he had his chance, he bounced right on up to the very tall man in the braids.  
  
"Hello, Doggfather, sir. I'm Brendon. That really doesn't matter, but I thought I'd tell you in case you wondered. Anyhow, sir, I'm trying to spread the love, y'know, my friend...boss...person, Joe, he's like, really awesome, and he deserves love like, way more than I do, and I have it! Did you meet Ryan and Spencer? They're over there, the tall one and the tall one just over there, yeah, um, okay, so, I love them and they might love me, and even before that I wanted Joe to have love, and now I _really_ want Joe to have love, like. Love should be universal and universally had, right, and especially by Joe, sometimes I think he saved my life, but he'd say I'm melodramatic, and feel free to stop me at any time, people tell me I babble a lot, especially when I smoke, and--"  
  
Snoop Dogg threw up a hand. Brendon's mouth snapped shut and he waited patiently.  
  
"Joe's the man."  
  
Brendon rocked up on his toes excitedly. "Yes. Yes! You totally get it!"  
  
Snoop drew slowly on his blunt as he eyed Brendon, who fairly glowed against the firelight, vibrating in place. Ah, youthful energy. "Guess I'm not entirely sure what it is you're looking for from me, son."  
  
"Well, it's just like you said! Joe is awesome. I want help to find him an awesome dudeman, he deserves that, dude, man." Brendon accepted the blunt when it was offered and waited for the surely forthcoming pearls of wisdom. He looked up to find Snoop looking at him with one eyebrow quirked. Brendon got that look a lot, actually.  
  
"I think your awesome dudeman is someone else's legit man." Snoop held his hand out and motioned for Brendon to return the smoke. Brendon, dazed, nodded his head as if on a spring and handed it over.  
  
"Right, right. Wait. What?"  
  
"He got a man, pretty sure." Snoop looked sure, even, and Brendon couldn't question that. But. Who? What?  
  
"Who? What?" To say Brendon was floored would have been saying the very least.  
  
"You funny, little dude. Your Joe boss man and his husband, talked to them a little earlier about their ceremony. Told me they played one of my songs at their reception. Even a man like me's gotta be touched by a thing like that, Little Bden, them wearing little greens pinned on and listening to me."  
  
Brendon blanked briefly (how did _Snoop_ know that?) and then it broke through, got through to his clouded mind. "His. Husband?"  
  
Snoop turned Brendon a half turn and nudged his shoulder a bit. "There. You ain't ever seen married folk before? They got a look. Looks pretty much just like that."  
  
Joe had an arm around Jon's waist while they stood next to the fire, laughed with Patrick and Greta at something Pete and Travis were up to, something Brendon couldn't make out through the smoke. Oh. _Oh_. The flames threw light just right onto Jon's neck, and for the first time, Brendon saw the patch of skin, a darker red even in firelight. Oh.  
  
"Joseph. Mark. Trohman." Brendon was irate, irate and actually stamped his feet. "Was this some joke on me? Did everyone else know?"  
  
Joe stopped laughing and looked kindly on Brendon. "No, no one else knew."  
  
Pete piped up. "I knew."  
  
Patrick elbowed him and looked at Brendon, shrugged. "We were the witnesses."  
  
Brendon's eyes grew huge as he stared at Joe. "Oh my God, you're actually married to Jon. You're _married_ , that's freaking awesome, Joe, oh dude, but how could you let me carry on like that, Joseph, that's mean. Mean and wrong and I hate you right now. Even if it is totally awesome that you're married. Oh em gee and to Jon, you're married to Jon, how long, seriously, no, don't answer that, I'm mad at you."  
  
"I still knew." Pete broke the silence, and Gabe followed with "I figured it out."  
  
Brendon's indignant tone knew no boundaries. "And Snoop knew!"  
  
Joe put his hands up in an effort to placate the pacing Brendon. "No, B, really, no one except Pete and Patrick really knew before today."  
  
"And Gabe wouldn't know if Joe would be more conscientious about his teeth and on time with morning coffee." Jon whistled at his flip flops when Joe glowered over at him, "Are we really going to have this conversation right now?"  
  
"I feel these are facts important to know."  
  
"Hey!" Brendon snapped his fingers between them. "I am still here! I had a plan! And you just. let me!"  
  
Joe winced just a teensy bit and said, "Well. It was a really nice thing you were trying to do, and. I wanted you to know that I appreciated it, and--"  
  
"No, I had a plan, and now you're married to Jon for who knows how long, and--"  
  
"Wait, who's married to Jon?" Ryan chimed in, seriously confused, as he walked up with Spencer in tow.  
  
Brendon spun to grin blindingly at them. "Wait, you didn't know?"  
  
"You married Walker? Guess I'll call my cousin, call off that date for the weekend." Spencer reached for his cell phone as Brendon threw his arms around him and Ryan both.  
  
"You guys really didn't know?" He broke away to do a little jig in place. "Oh, I'm not alone!"  
  
Jon raised his hand, realised it was the hand holding his beer, pulled it back down and raised his other hand. "So, um. Is it cool that I'm married to Joe then?"  
  
Brendon was mostly too busy staring googly-eyed at Ryan and Spencer, who were pulling him in towards them, but he managed, "Yeah, that's cool. I like that, I can dig it."  
  
Joe called after him, "If it makes you feel any better, you're the first person who works for me who knows."  
  
It was a blissful "It totally does, Joe, it does" that trailed back.  
  
  
***  
  
The end of the night bonfire gathering happened after dinner and when everyone was sufficiently sated on whatever they might be needing. The tables were laid out with snack foods and drinks, but the catering that was left was put in boxes or foil for the staff for the rest of the week. The serving and catering staff never stayed long. Spencer scared them all.   
  
The talk around the bonfire was Brendon's favorite part of the whole night.  
  
Brendon has spent most of the evening getting hugs, backslaps, and noogies for finally getting together with Ryan and Spencer. First it had made him blush and beam, but it's started to get a little weird. Mainly because most everyone kept saying, "Finally!" It was also weirding him out that no one seemed very surprised. It made him a little pouty that first hour.  
  
"We told you. We've been trying to woo you forever," Spencer said playing with Brendon's hair. They'd picked a spot on the grass right in the middle of all the blankets but far enough away from the fire so there wasn't a chance of them catching on fire. (No one wanted a revisit to the Great Greta Emergency Room Scandal of 2007.)  
  
"Oh yeah? How and when?" Brendon looked up with a little smile. "I want a full accounting."  
  
Gabe ambled up from his seat on Ryland's lap and grinned. "Well, there was that one time Ryan offered to help with your pants. He meant out of them. The red ones. The corduroy. Those."  
  
Most of the group sighed at the mention of the red cords.  
  
Travis blew out a stream of purple smoke (or what Brendon swore looked purple) and said, "Or that one time when Spencer offered to help boost you up to reach the top shelf and you wondered why he just kept his hands there."  
  
"I like the time when Brendon asked what time it was and Spencer and Ryan both said 'to be in my pants' at the same time. Classic," Cash said.   
  
Not that anyone was listening to him really.   
  
Surprisingly, it was Patrick that piped up next. "Or the last tasting when Ryan and Spencer tried to get you to play Strip Poker with them. In the shed. You were surprised you were the only one invited."  
  
It was well into the fifteenth story in with Ryan and Spencer blushing harder and looking more embarrassed that it sunk in for Brendon completely. "Oh my God. You totally do like me like me. You probably even love me!"  
  
Ryan and Spencer sighed and said, "Yes, Brendon."  
  
Brendon didn't hear the catcalls and hollers as he threw himself at them and tried to kiss them both. He didn't care so much either.  
  
***  
  
Pete stood like Max, crown and sceptre and footie pajamas and all, and demanded everyone's attention. "I have a very serious issue I would like the general populace opinion on, and I wish to discuss it now."  
  
Everyone looked up from their chatter at Pete, above them all on the picnic table, who looked sort of as if he were torn between banging his sceptre and wishing aloud for a gavel. Snoop looked sort of as if he were torn between rolling his eyes and raising his glass and also like he didn't know how to feel about that. Completely understandable.  
  
"Awesome, you guys totally worship me. Okay, so. Show of hands, who thinks Clandestine Farms needs a moat?" He paused long enough for Patrick to groan endearingly as only his Patrick could and then added, "Remember, I get two votes."  
  
"Why do you get two votes?" Jon tried to hide his laugh under a gruff tone, but Joe just laughed at him and at Pete when the latter actually contemplated the question for a moment.  
  
"What an excellent question, Jon Jacob, I actually had to contemplate it for a moment. Well, it's because I get Patrick's vote."  
  
Patrick peered at Pete and said dryly, "No. You don't."  
  
Pete reached pleading hands out towards Patrick. "But, Trick. Patty. Lover. Lovekins?"  
  
The last was said to Patrick's back, and Pete was courteous enough to wait until the glass door slid shut behind him to say, "Okay, now I get Patrick's vote. Show of hands!"  
  
As hands went up or decidedly down around the bonfire, Snoop paused long enough in rolling and said, "Good ass smoke, crazy ass folk."


End file.
